A Different Shoulder
by Sammyoyo
Summary: When Mike's relationship with Sandy breaks down, he has nowhere left to go. However, a friendly-and exceptionally quiet-hand is extended, but can Mike get his life back on track?
1. Breaking Down

The clouds over Roseville were piling up like so many cushions, stacked on top of one another, seeming ready to fall and envelope the cold, frost-glittering world below. Ice covered the windows and turned the grass covering every garden into a thousand gleaming razor blades.

However, Mike took in none of this as he trudged home from school, two hours early and up to his ears in trouble. He reflected bitterly that it should be the fault of someone else to cause his own fall from grace.

But then, he thought, life wouldn't ever be the same without Sandy. She had been a beacon in his life, through everything that the circus act he called a year group had put him through. Now the light was gone, and Mike couldn't see any way forward.

He stopped as he reached the end of his front yard. The house was dark and empty, and a patch of dry ground showed where the family car had stood a while earlier. With a sigh, Mike climbed the steps to his porch and slid his keys into the lock. The door clicked open, and he stepped inside, gasping with relief at the sudden change in temperature. Hanging his coat and bag on the rack, he walked into the kitchen and flicked the lights on. He slammed bread and margarine and honey onto the table without really seeing what he was doing, his eyes sliding over the kitchen he knew so well until it came to rest on the drawer at the end. Walking slowly over, Mike opened it and drew out a ten-inch carving knife. He fingered the end longingly, the feel of the cold steel somehow enticing.

A car door slammed outside, and the moment was broken. The Korat sighed and cut a slice of bread with the knife, replacing it lovingly to its drawer after he had finished.

He carried his snack up to his room and sat down on his bed. The room seemed too small for him now, the walls closing in like some kind of sick magic trick. The faded posters seemed to glare down at him. He stared defiantly back.

The sound of keys in the door jolted him back to reality, and he hurried out of his room and peered down the stairs.

His mother was standing there, looking up at him with her mouth slightly open.

"Mike? What are you doing home?"

Mike sighed, and waked a little further down the stairs. He sighed deeply.

"It's a long story, Mom."

His mother put her hands on her hips and set her jaw.

"Well then, it's a good thing I've got a lot of time on my hands then."

She beckoned him into the kitchen and sat down on the table.

"I'm waiting."

Mike looked down, ashamed.

"I got into trouble… At school."

His mother frowned at him.

"Go on."

Mike looked at his feet.

"I got into a fight… said some things I shouldn't have done… It's over now anyway."

His mother looked at him for a while longer, and then sighed and looked down at her feet.

"Why does this keep happening, Mike? This is the third time this month. You can't have been that affected by that breakup you keep mentioning. You're only 16, you don't even know what love is yet."

Mike glowered at the floor.

"If only that were the case."


	2. A Regrettable Decision

Hours turned into days, and then into weeks. Mike stayed in his bedroom mostly, too dejected to face the outside world. He would lie for hours, just staring at nothing. He thought he should feel something; empty, lonely, angry, but no; it was as though someone had shut the door to his mind like baize over a budgie, shutting down everything. No thoughts, no desires, nothing. He wouldn't eat; he couldn't eat. He lived his life like a machine; sleep, wake, move, sleep, endlessly spiralling towards God knew what.

However, as much as he tried, he gradually began to yearn to see the outside world again. As much as he tried to block himself off, he felt restless and agitated. Finally, one cold, damp, morning, he snapped. As soon as his parents had gone to bed, he crept downstairs, threw open the door, and stepped outside.

The air was sharp against his face, and he pulled his scarf, now rather worn and with a definite musky scent to it, tighter around his face. There wasn't a soul on the streets. Fog had cast its blanket over the town, leaving nothing but shadowy outlines, grey against grey.

Mike walked without seeing, barely registering the world around him. Eventually, without really knowing how, he wound up at the park. It was beautiful in the dim light, with wreaths of mist caressing the hills and cloaking the ground. The trees were bare and still, and the ground was hard as stone. Through this wondered the indifferent Korat, until finally he ended up facing a specific tree, after around an hour of walking. Were it spring, the branches would have worn a coat of pink and green as the blossoms came forth from their slumber, and the leaves burst forth in the joy of the sunlight. However, the Sakura was bleak and motionless and the branches seemed to be drooping under the weight of the winter's chill.

Mike walked forward a little and sat down under it. Memories came flooding back; green grass, the laughter of children, and a girl; snowy white, with hair as black as ebony and a voice like liquid silk. He felt his eyes fill with tears, and then his heart hardened. The anger which had been boiling inside him for so long had reached breaking point; Mike felt his fists curl up and then, before he knew what he was doing, he could feel himself striking out at the tree, ripping off branches and stalks, tearing the bark, his bruised and bleeding knuckles beating against the unyielding wood, until finally, he stopped, and then slumped onto the ground. The world seemed to close in around him, darkening the sky; tendrils of shadow were creeping in, and Mike fell into a spinning black hole.

Something was cold. He knew that. Cold and very hard. Gradually, Mike regained his senses and sat up.

The world was bright through his eyelids. Mike wondered briefly if he had died and this was whatever lay beyond, but gradually, as he pulled himself out of the dark recesses of his mind, he realised that it was snow; he was covered in it, and was very, very cold. He tried to feel his face, but realised that he could neither move nor sense his fingers. He cried out and tore his eyes open, and raised his arms. Yes, his fingers were still there; he could move them. One by one, his limbs woke up and responded to his needs.

Breathing heavily on his hands, Mike got up and looked around. The entire park was three feet deep in snow, and fog lay heavily over everything. He gasped, and ran up the nearest hill. He could see about ten feet in front of his face at most; in some directions, all that was visible was white.

Mike groaned. The park was at least three acres wide, and more than that in length. It would take most of the day to get out.

With a repressed sob, Mike chose a direction and started walking.


	3. Slippery Slope

It was past midday by the time Mike reached the edge of the park, although you could hardly tell through the mist that still shrouded Roseville. After a short rest, he set off down a likely-looking road.

The setting was not familiar to him; he did not know this part of town so well. It was dark and dingy, with dank council houses pressing in from either side of the road. Litter was strewn across the streets, and the bulbs in several of the lamps had been smashed, scattering the glass across the freshly-settled snow and casting large sections of the street into darkness. The whole place stank of rotting vegetables, and the few cars that were strewn around had broken windows and bricked-up wheel arches.

As Mike walked on further, he came to a decision. He would look for somewhere that looked open and ask for directions. All that was left to do now was to actually find somewhere that looked vaguely friendly.

After searching the dim streets for nearly an hour, the Korat was on the point of giving up. He trudged down one final street, and heard something; a band playing, very faintly. He turned towards the sound, and was faced by a darkened alleyway, overshadowed by two empty warehouses. With a sigh, he set off into the gloom.

As he approached the end, he gradually began to make out a light to go along with the sound of the band; an amateur rock group by the sound of it. Gradually, the fog parted and he found himself in a small courtyard, covered in cigarette butts and broken bottles. Drawing himself up to his full height and gritting his teeth, Mike walked into the bar.

The band was indeed playing very loudly; to Mike's sensitive ears it was abhorrent. Strobe lights were picking out every single detail of the bar, and the entire place was so thick with smoke that Mike found himself squinting to keep his eyes working. Everywhere people were shouting and dancing, or standing by the bar where an enormous bouncer was keeping things in order. He fought his way over, and tried to get the barman's attention.

"Excuse me!" he shouted, coughing on his words through the haze of cigarette fumes.

"Hello! Where the hell am I Is this still-?"

He was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and a woman was standing behind him, holding a large drink and grinning like an idiot. Her eyes were so covered in makeup that she looked like a panda.

"Look wha' we got here!", she said, slurring her words through the alcohol. "Wan' some fun, honey?"

Mike backed away, putting his hands up.

"I really-"

But she was upon him before he could object. She pressed herself into him, locking her lips around his. He pushed her away and backed off, disgusted.

"Aww, you're no fun", she said, pouting. "Tell you wha', how 'bout I buy you a drink?" That grin was suddenly back on her face, and Mike wondered whether she might be mad as well as drunk.

She waved at the barman and spoke to him, glancing meaningfully at Mike, who felt his face burn. She was back a minute later with a large glass full of a thin, transparent liquid. It was pressed into Mike's hand, and he tried to give it back but she just laughed.

"Gorn! Gizzit a go!", she cackled, waving her own glass around to emphasise her words and spilling her drink over a couple who were sitting at the bar.

Mike sighed, and looked into the glass. The fumes made him gag and his eyes watered in sympathy.

However, he was extremely thirsty and very tired. He didn't know what was in the glass- for all he knew, it might have been pure, poisonous ethanol- but at the moment, it looked tempting. With a sense that he may well regret what he was about to do, Mike raised the glass to his lips and took a sip.

Instantly, everything got brighter. He felt his back arch and his fur stand on end. His fingers were locked around the glass, and he could suddenly feel every tiny movement of the people around him. Gradually, the feeling faded and was replaced by a warm, fuzzy glow inside of him. He took another sip, and the feeling of warmth grew. He giggled suddenly, and took a step forwards. The woman was back again, her glass full once more.

"Come on, babe! Lets 'ave a go!", she said, steering him into the middle of the dance floor. He didn't object, and felt himself laugh and take her by the arms.

The next few minutes were a blur. He was moving extremely fast, he knew that, but he could sense no more as his brain was fogged up by alcohol and smoke. Finally, he stopped, and collapsed into a chair by the wall. What he assumed was a man was sitting next to him, rolling up a blur and putting it into a blur that Mike hoped was his mouth; he could hardly see, with colours fading into each other and outlines slurred between each other. The man looked at him, and pushed him sideways. The grey cat felt himself slide slowly sideways, and he giggled feebly. The man laughed, and pulled him up. He pulled out something long and white, and shoved into Mike's mouth before pulling out something black and shiny and putting it to the tube. It glowed brightly.

Mike took a breath, and was rewarded with a lungful of smoke. He spluttered and coughed, taking the tube out of his mouth. However, along with the smoke came something that Mike had never felt before. He suddenly felt like he was floating. Everything gradually swam back into focus. He took another drag, and the feeling was suddenly heightened. He laughed out loud, and waved a hand in front of his face. He stood up, and walked up to the bar.

"Whes baf'roo?" He said, and frowned. "Whe…Wher…Where's t' bathroom?" he said, and grinned hugely. The barman rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Mike turned and waltzed into the door the barman had indicated.

It stank inside; urine and smoke mixed with bleach. He looked into the urinals, and the last of his common sense told him to back away slowly. Behind him were three doors; one obviously led to a storage cupboard, one to a broken toilet, an one to a man with a cheeseboard on his lap covered in white powder. Mike jumped backwards and apologised as much as his muzzy head would allow him to. The man just smiled at him.

"Dude… This is awesome. Yous gotta try it." ,he said, waving his hand vaguely. Mike peered at the board, and then at the metal pipe which was proffered.

"Wha'?" he said, taking it off him. The man laughed, and nearly fell off of the toilet. He mimed putting the thing in his nose and sniffing.

Mike shoved the thing back at him.

"Nonono. Bad stuff. You gotta be stupid. You stooped, mister?"

The man just giggled, and then growled. He stood up, grabbed Mike's head, and shoved it towards the board.

"You think you're so good, kid?" He leered, spraying Mike with spit. "Let's make you_ bad_."

He jammed the pipe up Mike's nose, and put his hand over the Korat's mouth. Mike tried to hold his breath, but finally, he had to give up. He breathed in massively through his nose, and took around half of the powder with it. The man laughed, and scraped up the rest of the white substance, depositing it into a bag.

"Sweet dreams, pumpkin.", he laughed, slamming the cubicle door.

Mike groaned, his head feeling like a ten-ton weight. He felt amazing. He tried to stand up, but felt his legs collapse underneath him. On the second attempt, he managed to get up and hold a position there. He reached out hands that looked like another man's, and slid back the bolt on the door.

The Korat stumbled out, reaching out for the sink. He felt bile rising in his throat, and retched into the sink. He suddenly needed to be outside. The world was spinning wildly around his head. He looked around for another door, and found a fire escape tucked into an alcove. He pushed on the release mechanism, and fell out into an alleyway.

It was dark outside, and Mike realised with a jolt that he must have been in the club all day. He tried to stand, but his body would no longer obey him. He reached out and touched hard ground. The world seemed to be spinning down into his body, darkness closing in fast. He closed his eyes, and let the night take him.


End file.
